Got a problem with Pablo Picasso — his bluntness, his sexual politics, his sheer shirtlessness? Fine, then the man will just pack up his bathtub and bid you adieu.

The San Diego Rep production of Herbert Siguenza’s solo show “A Weekend With Pablo Picasso” opens with a clever visual joke along those lines — one that ties in nicely with the artist’s reputation for sleight-of-eye surprises.

The moment poses a promise that’s fulfilled fitfully over the course of the 85-minute, monologue-based work, which is long on wit and history if a little slack on the dramatic tension.

One thing’s certain: It’s hard to conceive of a better fit for the part of the larger-than-life painter than Siguenza, the playwright-performer and sly clown who co-founded the maverick Chicano troupe Culture Clash nearly 30 years ago.

Not only does Siguenza act and write, he’s an accomplished (and lightning-quick) visual artist who dashes off several works during the course of the show.

Along the way, he also captures convincingly a sense of Picasso’s appetites, passions and earthy ethos.

Siguenza (the Rep’s current resident artist) first workshopped the show at the downtown theater three years ago, and has continued to develop it in productions around the country.

The piece’s key conceit: Picasso has a single weekend to complete a commissioned set of paintings and vases. The year is 1957, and the artist is 76 years old, living and working in the South of France.

He speaks directly to playgoers under the (slightly awkward) pretext we’re voyeuristic art students; many of his remarks come in the form of one-liners that carry varying degrees of pith and wisdom. (The pronouncement that “each picture is a vial of my blood” conveys a vivid, visceral sense of Picasso’s artistic ferocity. “Do not try — do” puts one more in mind of Yoda.)

The series of recollections and observations can make the play feel less like a story in progress than a still life; the mandate to finish the works adds only a modest sense of consequence, given that Picasso is clearly not one to be pushed around by art dealers or troubled by deadlines.

And yet the show, directed by Rep associate artistic director Todd Salovey, packs multiple powerful moments. The creation of one painting becomes like a concerto for canvas, with Siguenza’s stylized movements choreographed to jazz. The scene highlights the best of Bruno Louchouarn’s rich sound design and Victoria Petrovich’s often dazzling projections (on Giulio Perrone’s graceful set).

There’s also the quiet revelation of Picasso’s proposed deal with God over his dying sister that cuts so deep it could stand to be explored some more.

Siguenza’s Picasso is at his funniest when he tells of watching his wife wrestle with his furious mistress in front of the artist’s iconic antiwar painting “Guernica.” (Shades of that great “Dr. Strangelove” movie line: “You can’t fight in here, this is the war room!”)

And at his most sobering when he recalls being asked of the same painting by a Nazi officer in Occupied France, “Did you do that?” His reply: “No, you did.” (“Guernica” immortalizes the German and Italian bombardment of a Spanish village.)

In such moments, Siguenza privileges us with glimpses into the soul of an artist who’s playful enough to fashion whimsical installations out of cheese and bread, and brilliant enough to nourish a revolution.